Song

Led down from the tower Head high and hands bound Blindfold declined against the wall Black square pinned to his heart His eyes afire and shining And he sang... He sang of Caruso, Townes Van Zandt Pavarotti, Bocelli, Mercury, Carreras, he sang of Antoine, Of Sinatra, Lennon, Morrison, Redding He sang and songbirds paused in flight He sang like them all He sang a song of himself Of leaves of grass, of second comings Of Byron, and Bharti, and Cummings He sang of Neruda, and Plath, Tagore Dickinson, Kamala Das and Naidu Oh, he sang of them all He sang of art and beauty Of Mona Lisa and starry nights Girls in green dresses and pearls He sang of Van Gogh, of Picasso Of Rembrandt, da Vinci He sang of Michelangelo He sang of sadness, pain He sang of My Lai, Sand Creek Of Guernica and Krystallnacht He cried and sang of Wounded Knee Of Katyn Forest, Sabra and Shatila Oh, he wept as he sang He sang of history and wonders He sang of Olduvai and pyramids Machu Picchu, Tikal, and Angkor Wat He sang of a great wall, the Taj Mahal Stonehenge, Easter Isle, Mesa Verde His song took us to them all He sang of courage A song of Bunker Hill, Gettysburg Of the Alamo, Normandy, Stalingrad Of Lincoln, Guevara and Dr. King He sang of Bolivar, Bhutto, Ghandi He shamed us with their song He sang his song... As women sighed and peasants cried He sang until the rifles fired, he died Songbirds fell from the sky Soldiers broke their guns on stones And marched into the deep blue sea. 4/12/14